The kitchen door burst open and Astrid Page ran in. His tousled black hair settled as he came in breathlessly. He went to Pasqua. “The Aldermaston…desires to see Lia. He says she must come straightaway.”
Pasqua scowled at the boy. “What is this nonsense? We have much work to do. There are other helpers he can call on.”
“No, Pasqua, he requested her. She must come right now.”
Lia’s heart shuddered in her chest and she clenched the broom handle until her arms trembled. Looking about, she noticed that Sowe had not returned yet from bringing the Aldermaston’s meal. Oh, no. For the second time that morning, she understood the complicated and vicious feelings of betrayal. As clear as the noonday sun, she knew Sowe had told all. Gripping the broom handle angrily, she nearly snapped it over her knee.
Everything in her life was unraveling around her, but she was determined to stop it and mend it. There was little time to think – she needed to act rather than be acted upon.
“Let me fetch my cloak first,” she said impatiently, walking to the pegs, drying her eyes.
“You hardly need a cloak,” Pasqua scolded. “If the Aldermaston begs for your audience, then you move. No trifling here. You obey. That is always what is best where he is concerned. Did Sowe spill something? What is this about?”
“I do not know, mum. She was there in his chamber, crying. There were no spills that I could tell.”
Lia fastened the cloak and walked to the loft ladder, ducking quickly behind a barrel and grasped the Cruciger orb. She licked her lips, giving less than a second thought to what she was about to do. If she thought about it much, she would lose her courage. Her choices were dwindling like water through her fingers.
“What are you fiddling with, child?” Pasqua demanded, hand on her hip, bowl in the other. “What have you there? In your hand?”
“I know what the Aldermaston wants. It will not take long. Go on, Astrid. I will be right there,” she lied.
“What is that in your hand, child?”
Lia rushed past her, where the page boy was already pulling open the door. As soon as she felt the cold misty air on her face, she took a deep final breath. The smell of the kitchen, the luxurious scent of breads, cheeses, roasting meat – she breathed it in one last time.
“Lia!” Pasqua called after her. “You come back here! When I call you, you come! Lia!”
Lia started to run, away from the manor house. In her mind she said the words, find the Pilgrim Inn. The spindles within the orb began to whirl.
* * *
“Those who have not been initiated into the order of the mastons may wonder why these beautiful Abbeys are built. The fact that each one takes nearly a generation to construct is a reminder of their great importance and sense of permanence. They are built from stone that may endure through the ages like the mountains. The walls, joints, arches, the trim, the flowerbeds, even the unspoiled trees nearby are rich with meaning and symbolism. I shall not divulge the rites that take place inside, but instead, draw your mind to the fact that learners must study for years before they are allowed within the precincts. Within – each dungeon, room, screen, and veil speaks of our progression in this life as we toil to draw ever closer in unity with the Medium. There are some whispers now and then, spoken in hushed tones when they do not think they are heard, that these grand Abbeys are not just buildings of learning and reflection. Rather, they are gateways to other worlds, that when those living who listen for the utterances of the Medium truly hearken, in all ages and across all time, they will build themselves structures of chiseled stone and polished pewter. Then they can travel beyond to other worlds – even to Idumea itself. I will not say whether or not these rumors are true. Only this – that the reverence and humility given to these magnificent structures are unequivocally deserved.”
- Cuthbert Renowden of Billerbeck Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
The Pilgrim
The days of the Whitsun Fair were the only times Lia ever walked beyond the walls of the abbey. Those who lived within, especially the wretcheds, never left until their time of service was complete. If something was needed from the village, then it was brought to the abbey and handed through the gate. For the most part, both worlds existed as separately as possible. Lia had an idea where the Pilgrim was, on High Street just beyond the northernmost walls of the Abbey grounds, and that was the direction the pointers of the Cruciger orb led as she ran through the mist.
But as she drew closer to the enormous sanctuary, the pointers swung directly at it instead of where she expected. Her shoes squished in the grass and her breath came in quick gasps as she stopped running. Behind her, in the mist, lay the manor where the Aldermaston waited for her. She stared at the orb, confused. The walls of the grounds were somewhere in front of her, but the pointers were fixed on the Abbey itself. She started walking again, and the pointers swung even more prominently back, directing her towards the abbey. Strange writing appeared on the lower half of the orb, but there was no way of understanding what it meant.